a real nightmare (save your prayers)
by SoDunne
Summary: Nick Fury and those who remain keep working to ensure HYDRA doesn't win. For Steve, that task is more difficult than it's ever been. A man back from the dead—one of the many HYDRA projects tossed away like trash when no longer useful, Steve Rogers gets chance after chance to thwart them at every possible turn. But they know his Achilles Heel: his partner, Natasha Romanoff—
1. Chapter 1

**_Full Summary: _****_Nick Fury and those who remain keep working to ensure HYDRA doesn't win. For Steve Rogers, that task is more difficult than it's ever been. A man back from the dead—one of the many HYDRA projects tossed away like trash when no longer useful, Steve Rogers gets chance after chance to thwart them at every possible turn. But they know his Achilles Heel: his partner, Natasha Romanoff. She leaves him behind and seemingly goes back to the life she led before SHIELD. _**

**_With their insufferable endurance, HYDRA continues to withstand the centuries long rivalry between good (mostly) and evil._**

**_Notes: I have this bad habit of letting every idea take me away. I'm doing it again. As I tend to do, I wrote most of this instead of going back to bed. I'm quite ahead right now. _**

**_Something to really note: I watched Terminator Genisys right before bed and...so I wasn't imagining Scarlet Johansson as Black Widow when I thought this up—blasphemous, I know. _****_I've been on an Emilia Clarke kick, and it's just bled into this monster fever-dream I'm disguising as a story. If this were a movie, she'd be my Black Widow. And seriously if this gets any worse I'm just going to have to start a collection. _**

**_In the end, Natasha is still Natasha._**

**_Title taken from a line in Halsey's _Nightmare_. _**

* * *

"You not gon' like this," Nick Fury informs one, Steven 'Steve' Rogers—former soldier, now head of a special operations team under the _Avengers_ banner, what was once SHIELD. They've been forced underground—operating out of a network of secure bunkers, supplied with tech from Stark Industries. The certified genius, and agent known as Iron Man siphons off materials and money to them. No one cares enough to look. He's one of the good guys, making his own money—he donates a sizable amount to medical research and charity.

Steve stiffens when the former director of the defunct SHIELD slaps _her_ pictures on the table.

"Where'd you get these?" Steve asks, "Nat's—Natasha's alive?" He pauses, staring Fury in the eye as he swallows and gives nothing away. "How long have you known?"

"The attack on Sokovian officials at the UN? Intel confirms it was her." Fury says, not answering Steve's questions.

"You're wrong," Steve argues, "You're fuckin' wrong." He's been out of his coma for a year, and since the fateful day he nearly died (though, that's… not a rare occasion by any stretch of the imagination), he hasn't stopped asking questions. But this, this is not an answer he wants to hear. He'd had half a mind to run off and find his partner himself. He'd asked about not her as. Soon as he was able to—she'd been no where in the rubble. But mostly because it had been hard to stomach, that it'd been her that blew a HYDRA base…with him still in it...she had to have her reasons. Had to.

He couldn't believe that the woman he'd had the unfortunate fate of falling in love with could attempt to kill him, or even leave him for dead. It didn't make sense.

He remembers her radiant but rare smiles, the way her eyes disappeared when she laughed. She could sing, loved to dance. She made him feel at home—with all he's seen, been through—she made him feel at home. Even if he was suddenly thrust into the life of a super spy.

He'd been Natasha Romanoff's partner for 5 years before it all went to shit. They were simply following a lead, at most; working a retrieval job, one that led them to an abandoned military base.

He knew it was a bad idea to go in there, they had direct orders from Nick to return to base and go over what they knew. They'd never encountered the building before—ended up underground.

He'd known that she'd had her secrets, but the suggestion that she'd been a double agent, tasked with tying up some loose ends—that he'd been considered such, hurt more than he'd like to admit. But he knows HYDRA—the fringe organization with interests that range from nuclear weapons testing and heightened military presence, a heavy hand in human trafficking to even experimentation in the name of science.

They injected him with a serum of some sort—a formula said to have been perfected by a German after the Second World War, but with no one willing to actually take it; it was decades before it fell into worse hands than it had originally been in—and paired with radiation, the serum turned him into one tough bastard.

And now he refused to die, much to the chagrin of those in charge.

After the original scientist was assassinated, an Abraham Erkskine, it took years for the serum to be perfected. Steve doesn't know the details. But he does know...he nearly died being subjected to it; for all intents and purposes, he _had_ died and was tossed out like garbage in the streets of Sokovia—no memory of what happened or how he got there.

Nick Fury found him, and after some extensive studying of the super serum (it's a compound of different things he's not equipped to really understand), a crash course in how to deal, the _Nomad_ was born. He had no country, just an impossible need to not see the world go to shit, and definitely exact some revenge— even if he is EXHAUSTED.

Natasha was supposed to be the tether that keeps him grounded, teach him more than weapons prowess and hand-to-hand combat. She taught him how to be a spy, how to be smart. Soon, Nick was sending them everywhere.

It had been a plot, according to what Fury is saying now.

"It's not a lie," Fury said. "It's right there in the damn pictures."

Steve traces the outline of her rounded face. In a few of them, she's simply walking to her car in Russia, like it ain't a big deal. The newer ones are in London. The pictures are dated, timed, locations stamped in the corner. She's a brunette now, her hair long. He knows what it's like to run his fingers through it. He remembers the softness of her skin, even if it's marred by scars earned on the job. He knows she gets splitting headaches, after effects of one too many shots to the head and a heightened sensory memory. Her knowledge of everything makes her dangerous.

She'd known exactly how to get him to need her.

Even now, when she's a traitor to not only him, but the entire United States, a war criminal—part of him still wants to save her; to know her reasons.

Then, something akin to rage bubbles in the pit of his stomach. How dare she? How fuckin' dare she convince him she'd loved him too? How dare she _abandon_ him?

He was probably the last person who should be heading a team of tactical misfits in top secret missions to save the world..._But_ who else? No one else was expendable to the powers that be. Nick Fury himself didn't seem to have a problem dealing with the suits to keep them happy, but Steve knew, when SHIELD crumpled, it was going to be harder than ever to suss out just how high the corruption went. There were things he would never ascertain. And Steve, Steve had discovered more than he'd ever wanted to.

He was practically indestructible, back from literal death; his best friend? He has a metal arm and no recollection of how he'd gotten it.

James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes, now to many just James, has been back for a little less than 3 years—enough time had passed for Steve to have maybe accepted that he'd never see his best friend ever again. And accept a chance to really do something about the growing problem SHIELD was dealing with in HYDRA.

Steve and Bucky grew up in Brooklyn together, enlisted, served, fought together. They'd huddled for warmth; laughed until their stomachs were sore, and did enough necessary evils together to know the horrors the other had seen, to know what the other dreamed at night. One day, in hostile territory, their team was attacked. And thus, began Steve's least favorite nightmare that turned him into the Super Soldier. It was another 5 years before he'd ever seen Bucky again—not until Nick Fury himself recruited them for SHIELD.

In the time before then, James was out killing people for HYDRA. From America to Siberia—they'd discover ways to reset a person's memory. Bucky remembers the machine, calls it a blender.

Steve still doesn't know everything that happened to Bucky in the time they'd been apart. But he knows, as Bucky has stated, _it wasn't fuckin good._

"I'm giving you a chance to tell me what you know. You were close to her—she trusted you. More than Clint, Tony, me… it was you. What did she tell you?"

"Are you kidding?" Steve asks, brows quirked. "You think if I knew we'd end up here...we'd be in this mess?"

Nick almost laughs. "You think I don't know how close you two were?"

Everyone knew; knows.

"She's a good actress," Steve says soberly.

There's a rapping on the glass door, bringing Steve's attention to the man on the other side. Bucky himself. Nick motions him inside.

"Soldier."

"Sir," Bucky is better at falling into line—at least until when he knows what he needs to know. He has too much new information bubbling around in his head for him to sit around asking for more. "You wanted to see me."

"I'm sending you and Rogers to London." Nick gestures to the chair left open. "Have a seat."

Bucky takes less than a second to ascertain the mood of the room—it's not bright. But nothing about Steve has been bright since before that fateful day in the Congo.

"I haven't agreed to anything," Steve comments. Nomad, as he's called now, exhales deeply, throwing the pictures out of the file as he clears his throat. "I'm still waiting for you to tell me what the hell we're even looking for." _Other than Natasha. Who clearly doesn't need any of my help._

"You've been spending too much time with Stark," Nick comments offhandedly. Since the fall of SHIELD, the soldier has had a hard time figuring out just who they've been fighting for; if even the best, most secret of the secret government organizations can be corrupted so irrevocably, then what was it all for? But with so many lives at stake, it's not as if Rogers can quit. No, that's not him. He'd never survive the guilt. And he could never get out. What would he even do?

Steve Rogers has only ever wanted to fight, find something in his sorry ass life to be proud of. But pride isn't eternal, not for him anyway. There's always something more, the world is never just...saved.

"We've had the Twins working their way into her good graces for the last six months," Nick says, "but they've lost contact, and it's been more than a month."

"What?" Both Bucky and Steve question, eyes wide and their fists balled. Steve has been blackballed by a wall—Nick Fury—every time he's asked for information. He'd marched through the door today, set on getting answers, and now here he is; about to be sent off to rectify the situation.

"That could mean anything at this point!" Bucky nearly keels over, but rubs his temples with his flesh fingers.

"If Nat's running with HYDRA—" Steve's voice is calm, but The Director knows the war veteran's blood is boiling with rage. He can't even finish the sentence.

He'd sent Steve's young protégés into a trap of deadly proportions. They'd been on his team for under a year before they were being assigned what revealed itself to be more dangerous than simply tailing a lead. They'd only wanted Pietro—Pete, as they call him, with affection— knowing if worse came to worse, the Widow's game had been play with the handsome men she could exploit for her own gain. But Pete wasn't going anywhere without his sister. Wanda, who can manipulate her way into any room, is invaluable to the cause.

With their checkered past, they'd found themselves in HYDRA's hands as the economic crisis in their home county of Sokovia had continued to collapse. With the use of more experimentation, Pete became a flash-running speed demon. And Wanda… she could see into a person's head just by walking into a room. Her body pulses with her ability to manipulate pure energy. It flows from her fingers in a glow of red. They still don't know everything she can do.

The twins are a pair of siblings unlike anything Steve has ever encountered. Though nothing surprises him. He's met Dr. Bruce Banner—who becomes a big green monster when he's angry.

His and Bucky's abilities are..._mild_… in comparison. And they only had really good cardio and thick skin if you think about it.

James' chest is heavy with stress and he has to talk himself down, "Y-you haven't heard from Wanda? Piet? Nothing? Who's their handler!? Why the fuck would you send them?"

"Hill is more than capable—"

"Apparently fuckin not!" James cuts him off angrily. Wanda means a great deal to him. She'd nearly exhausted herself trying to help him heal. She'd lifted the triggers HYDRA had implanted in his head...so deep in his memory he hadn't even known it was there.

"Cut me off again, Soldier—it'll be the last thing you ever do."

Barnes does his best not to scoff. His metal fingers squeeze the edge of the table, he leaves a dent the shape of his hand in it. He could rip Fury apart if he really wanted to—but he wouldn't get very far before every protection agency known to man would be on his ass. Maybe even Steve would kill him. Or run away with him to find their team. He can't tell these days. Steve hasn't been the same.

"This was a way for the two of them to stretch their legs," Fury explains. He's not going into further detail, it's not what Steve and Barnes need to know right now.

"What do we know?" Steve asks. "You gotta give me somethin'."

"There's an arms deal going down in London in two days," Nick explains, "what we think we know is: the trade is for launch codes."

"Nukes, of fuckin course," Bucky mutters sarcastically. His brows lift and fall in exasperation.

"But that doesn't make sense," Steve cuts in, face made up with confusion. "What do they need nuclear bombs for if they can give people superpowers..."

"Money," Fury replies. "They don't need the need the bombs, they need the money. With the US-Russian relations in the state they're in, all HYDRA has to do is fan the flames of an already delicate situation. Your mission, should you choose to accept it—" oh god, he stops himself, keeping himself from continuing with such a nauseating prompt. "Should you do what I expect and make this right; all I need you two to do is intercept the deal going down, get the launch codes."

"Where does she play into this?" Barnes asks, finally really seeing the pictures spread out on the table, finally taking a look at them. Steve inhales sharply. She's dressed in expensive clothes, flanked by guards that she wouldn't really need if the situation dissolved the way they always think they're prepared for.

"Romanoff was last seen in London. Before we lost contact, the Maximoffs had been tailing her. They stumbled upon a much bigger plot."

"And what about them?" Barnes asks.

"This isn't a rescue mission," Fury replies, "It's been a month. I'm operating on the assumption that there's nothing we can do for them. They'll turn up," he holds his hands behind his back, trying to appear impassive but under all his anger, Steve can still acknowledge that the former agent doesn't like what he's about to say next. "Dead or alive or..."

Barnes is too spurned to actually speak.

"They're just kids," Steve says darkly. "They were just kids! And you fuckin sent them to go after Natasha! A trained killer. She left me for dead and you sent two kids to go after her! And now they're probably fuckin dead, we're no closer to finding out why the hell Nat flipped! But we're supposed to stop a nuclear war—"

"It's about time you recognize that there's nothing you can do for Romanoff!" Fury hollers, slamming his hands on the conference table. "She made her choice. She doesn't want to be helped!" He stares daggers at his best, "Now, I need you to hear me. You can't save someone who doesn't want to be saved. She was one of my best, she did her job, passed every test with flying colors. She's made for this. I don't want to bench you, but I will. I've let you get away with so much thinking you'd snap out of it." Fury doesn't stop, even when Steve glare at him. "She hurt you, bad...I know. But don't make this about what you had—this is about HYDRA; all the down right evil things they've done. They're the enemy. Get your head in the game. This is what you signed up for. You can't save Natasha from herself but you and Barnes...you two can save millions."

Barnes grips his lifelong friend by the shoulder, getting his attention, even through Steve's angry buzz of grief. "C'mon man, we have to do this. It's not just us, it's everyone in trouble here. You know what happens if HYDRA gets those codes," Bucky whispers. "We're all fuckin' dead." A look passes between them. Barnes doesn't believe they still can't help Wanda or Pete—maybe even Natasha can be stopped, helped. But if Fury sends someone else, they'll never get to rectify the situation. He nods at his friend. "C'mon…"

Steve takes a deep breath, looking between the two men. Bucky is right.

"When do we leave?"


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Super late here, a month so. Shout out to my one reviewer!**

* * *

"Are you really ready for this?" Clint sits with Steve in the quinjet, knowing just how delicate life has been in recent months. "You know, you may not like what you find."

"I'm not going to find Romanoff, Hawk," Steve replies, sounding near soulless. But Clint knows better. He knows the Nomad. And with so much history between himself and the Black Widow he knows it was impossible for Steve not to become entangled in her web of intrigue. And he's been fooled just as well, anyone who cared enough to look could see—they thought—that she cared for Steve very much. To hear that she left Steve for dead was nearly brain splitting.

They all expected Steve to take off, to go so far off the grid only Fury would be able to actually find him. But he'd stayed, first by no choice of his own—then he'd thrown himself deeper into the work; training Wanda and Pete, teaching them all they know.

"Nomad, listen to me," Clint implores, "Whatever plan you've spent the last two days concocting—let it go. Get the launch codes and make it back to the rendezvous point."

Steve looks at him, dead in the eyes, but says nothing immediately. He gives nothing away.

There was once a point in time where the very thought of disobeying direct orders would churn his stomach, but that was then. Now he knows Fury tasks him with impossible things to overcome because he's the only one who can face them head on and keep going; dig deeper. And this is one of those times.

He's going to bring the Widow in, even if it's the last mission Fury ever sends him on. He's certain.

"You're not going to change his mind," James appears in the entrance ramp-way; a bag is over his shoulder. It's a backpack small enough to not get in the way. Their safe house will surely be stocked with weaponry and enough utilities to last way past the expected time the mission will take, but he's always prepared. "You're not even having the conversation right now."

Clint looks like he wants to say something, anything, else. But he refrains.

Soon, they're taking off. Both James and Rogers are strapped in for take off, sitting across from one another. They always remember those first days together on the same team. Every stop in the Middle East was tough, but they'd been tougher. Until of course Africa, and one day they weren't. That's behind them now, but these quiet moments, where there's just the whirring of engines and wind, it comes back.

He doesn't know the details of Steve's mission, but he knows his partner will tell him. (Steve doesn't like to call him a partner, not when the memory of his last one is so fresh.) Bucky knows that Steve is aware he'd never leave him for dead, or not go where he goes. Steve had been the only one to never stop looking for him.

And so James is not surprised at all, knowing he wants to find the twins and Natasha and bring them home. Natasha won't be coming willingly, and part of Steve knows that. Hell, it's more unlikely than anything, that she'll fight tooth and nail. They'll want to lock her up—possible execute her. But that won't come to pass—not if they didn't kill Barnes himself. But Steve needs to get his head in the game if he expects to come out of this alive.

"Steve," James begins, watching the way his friend hunches, pressing his hands to his face.

They're both in their black tactical gear. Steve's vest is striped black and grey. His dog tags covered by thin scarves. He's over dressed actually. His hair is longer than he usually keeps it, the ends tucking the base of his ears, like James himself.

They're expected to blend on this mission.

James is going as his sniper. He has extensive weapons knowledge. Steve brings brute strength to the table, but James is the one who took to shooting like a fish to water.

"Don't say it, Buck," Steve replies, folding his arms after unbuckling himself from the seat. Clint pretends he's not listening. He thinks this mission is a disaster waiting to happen. But he's not even supposed to be here—after flying them to London, he's going home.

"I don't want to die, Steve," James says simply, "and I don't think you do either. You're too damn stubborn. But let's not tempt fate, alright?"

Steve clenches and unclenches his jaw, "I know what we're going for."

"I'm with you," James nods, "until the end of the line...you know that. But there's more at stake here than just—" his heart clenches in pain at his own words, but they're true"—a handful of people." They're all just cogs in the machine, never going to get the glory of saving the world from itself time and time again. Wanda and Pietro understood that, and it looks like Natasha never cared anyways.

Steve nods, but he's not agreeing to letting it go. They'll get the launch codes, but it's not going to be that simple. They both know that. He's always the first to throw himself in the fire. If Natasha is in town, there's something else going on. She's a skilled, killer spy, with extensive knowledge of how both sides operate. The best of the best doesn't get sent in for a simple trade.

"We have to expect something more, and you know that too," Steve finally comments, "There's more to this."

"We'll meet with Carter and see what she knows," James replies, talking of Agent, Sharon Carter. Her grand aunt, Peggy, was one of the founding members of SHIELD.

She'd attempt to move mountains if it meant proving that she was an agent of her own merit and drive. Steve stays quiet, working out the ins and outs of the mission in his head. He sighs and rakes his hands through his hair. He hasn't heard from Carter in months—more of his own doing than anything else—but she'd pulled for him on more than one occasion, always hoping to help. She's a reliable agent with a knack for hacking.

"Pull yourself together, man," Steve mutters to himself, pressing the heels of his palms into his closed eyes. He didn't get much sleep last night.

When he closes his eyes and tries to let his mind go blank, it doesn't really work out for the best. Thoughts he'd rather now revisit settle in his head and it's like a whirlwind of reminders. And it's happening just as Bucky gets up to walk to the cockpit. He leans over on the empty seat.

"I'm worried about him," Clint says, "I know I'm not as close to him as you, but—"

"Ah," James waves him off. But even he doesn't believe Steve will be fine. He's never going to be. But he'll keep kicking. "We always make it out in one piece."

"This is different," Clint argues. "This ain't gonna end with rainbows and butterflies."

And he's right.

...

..

.

The safe-house hides in plain sight, one side left unoccupied. The door is painted red, starkly colored compared to the doorway. It's not too far from the life of town, nestled on a quiet street Illuminated by street lights. But in this area, not too many people talk to their neighbors past a nod of the head on the stoop.

Steve looks around the stoop, his back turned to the door as James leans on the railing. Steve pushes his sunglasses into the front pocket of his bomber jacket. He glances up at the sky, notes that the clouds are starting to roll and the sky, darkening. "Fitting…"

Sharon Carter is just another face settled and waiting for something interesting to happen. This is very interesting. The tall blonde sweeps them into the townhome—without much preamble at all. Steve's eyebrows shoot into his hairline.

"You need a haircut," She says, making James chuckle.

Steve quirks a crooked smirk, "Yeah, thanks. You look good—well." He clears his throat.

Sharon snorts, smiling at him, "Flatterer." He smiles at her and she nods at James, "Buck…"

"Oh, are you two done?" He asks sarcastically, making her roll her eyes.

"Shut up, Barnes."

She's undercover as a housewife , 'married' to one Samuel Wilson—a former pilot. Not the traditional kind of pilot; he has actual robotic wings he stole—kept, as he puts it—after being discharged from the military. He fell off the face of the earth, after. But beside the obvious advantage of being death from above, Sam is smart and resourceful.

Plus, she finds his inability to shut up to kind of charming.

She introduces them and then gives a little tour of the place. "Bathroom's that way—" She points and their eyes follow but they're relatively quiet. She leaves them to settle, which won't take long by any means.

She and Sam commune in the living room, pouring over files while Steve and James get settled. There's nothing to do but regroup before the plan is set in motion for tomorrow night, a conference between different big bads from around the world come together. They buy all kinds of contraband—ranging from drugs, and explosives, and women. Things are auctioned and other deals made in private. The thought makes Sharon's skin crawl.

Sam's just sitting while she clicks through files on her Stark issue computer. (It's an ancient looking thing, but still easily maneuvered.) "Wait—" Sam stops, sagging over the back of her chair as he points at a picture. "I know that place. It's supposed to be abandoned. Well, it is ."

"That's where we think the deal between the Russian mafia and HYDRA is going down. They'll both be at the Gathering ." Sharon says, looking up at him. "How do you know it?"

"It was an active shipping yard for a while," Sam explains. "They used to bring girls in through there. Looks like they turned it into some secret sanctum of evil. But either way, scary shit happens over there. And it's invite only."

Sharon makes a face—clearly that's not good news. But she can handle it.

"Natasha was one of ours, what the hell does HYDRA have on her?" Sam asks. He hasn't always been entangled with espionage, nor did he ever think he'd end up being the Jason Bourne type. But he quickly became restless—though he appreciates the work he did as a military vet counselor.

He became entangled in espionage soon enough. Sharon has been showing him the ropes since Fury assigned him overseas. Sharon was put out in the field when Natasha defected. It was fine for a while, he wanted a change of scenery. But learning the locals feels a lot like sitting on his hands.

James manages to sit at the foot of his bed for a second before he sees Steve heading back downstairs. He heaves a sigh, discarding of his backward baseball cap and raking a hand through his hair; he heads back downstairs.

"Catch us up to speed," Steve cuts in, hands shoved in the pocket of the thick sweats he's donning now. And by the tone of his voice, Sam can tell he doesn't really want to get into anything else but that right now.

So Sharon tells him and Bucky what they need to know, the big bads and how the twins are tangled up in the web. And even though it's not officially a rescue, Sharon knows what Steve is thinking—she's on his team, she has to know. But…it's still not a rescue mission—they'll have to be careful if anyone is making out of this in one piece—and she's reeling from the realization that this is an unofficial talk. It's unlike Fury to leave even one agent behind enemy lines…two? She'd go to the ends of the earth to get them back. As soon as they confirm Wanda and Pete are being held in an old warehouse that doubles as a HYDRA base; they know what they'll be doing.

She doesn't normally do stuff like that though, breaking the rules. Steve is around, and mostly they're all on their best behavior. He's rarely the one proposing the rule bending. He has a code, one that he stands by. People never get hurt in his stead. So she follows his lead. He can be such a martyr though, and it's frustrating just as it is debilitating to him.

Some of the drone pictures are grainy, they have to be thankful that Stark never stops providing means to get the advantage. Bucky stiffens at the sight of Wanda practically hogtied and being dragged into the base. Pete was lifeless. It's Sam who notes that on their necks sit shock collars—probably with high enough voltage to stop their hearts.

"We don't have an exact time of the trade," Sharon explains. "But I know when our window is—doors open at 11. Main floor...sales are from 12:30 to 2am."

"Who knew criminals could be so punctual…" Sam comments. James snorts sardonically. It's not funny. But he can laugh or rage. He chooses to laugh.

"Yeah, but stupid. Anyone worth their salt knows, you get in and you get out before anyone knows you were even there." Steve pivots, folding his arms as he peeks out the window; there's nothing but glowing street lights and light snowfall.

"So," James clears his throat, "HYDRA is selling the launch codes to the Russian officials ...for an exorbitant amount of money. But why be the middleman? If they have them, can't they fan the flames themselves..." He knows there's a long-standing feud between the Russians and America. He played a huge part—no planning of his own but still. And in a dark twisted way, it's very HYDRA of HYDRA to fuel the Russian-American conflict. Hydra has roots so deeply embedded in history it's not surprising that they would make such a deal, "What's in it for them?"

"HYDRA likes to screw with people—entire governments." She slaps some printouts on the small coffee table, furthest from Steve—where he is leaning on the arm of the couch in the living room. There are pictures of Natasha. "And unsurprisingly, you can find anyone willing to hack into government protected information if you have the right price."

" She's the one," James scoffs. "Of course."

"She's been here for months," Sharon replies, "organizing, building a following. It's like she's planning on being here a while."

"That's bold," James says. "Putting such a well known spy in such a hotbed like London. HYDRA wants her to be seen." It seems like such a power play. But it's a stupid choice, making Natasha the woman to broker deals—though HYDRA has never been picky about who they do business with—it's not a secret that she'd tried to kill the Nomad. Natasha is whispered about, and like Baba Yaga, she is revered; the woman so bold as to abandon her fledgling and spit in Nick Fury's face in the process. She'd been gifted her life, and gave it up.

Steve is incredibly quiet. Staring at one particular photo of Natasha walking out of a shop, bags on her arms. If he didn't know any better, he'd think she was just one well off socialite. She blends into the life—as she can do anywhere. And it's as if she's another person; he didn't know her at all. It's not her time or place for his mind to wander to the poor state of his personal life—but it happens.

When did he become so soft? When did saving one person—discovering their motivations and saving them from themselves become his single reason for doing the right thing? He'd never struggled with that before—did he?

He's not stable enough to realize, that maybe he has. He's far from noble—it's not easy to deal with.

"Not really…" Sam replies then, "This ain't Russian territory. And she's going by the name," he puffs some air through his lips as he scoures for the name "Mary Farrell. Leans more Irish than anything to me."

Steve exhales deeply, stepping closer to the table where Sharon's laptop is set up. "So HYDRA sent her to make the deal…they sell the codes to the Russians and use the money to fund more human testing."

"They've been rounding people up. There's been an uptick in missing persons cases," Sharon says, her stomach churning. Steve clenches his jaw. He can't believe she's doing this willingly.

"And the Russians? They don't really fit in past being used as a diversion…"

Sharon licks her lips, forcing herself to take her eyes off the photos. Natasha was once a friend. "There's nothing but the usual chatter and the upcoming Gathering. But that's not surprising."

Steve's brain is working a mile a minute, but one thing sticks out in his head, HYDRA is everywhere and they don't give up their claims without means to replace them, "Na—Romanoff isn't here just to give something away."

He remembers being treated like a thing, but just as easily as they treated him like an object, they disposed of him when they thought him dead. Someone probably made a mistake getting rid of him. And now Natasha is them.

"Or anyone ," Sam says. "SHIELD operatives being compromised and Fury scrambling to throw the Secret Avengers together gave the sons of bitches just enough wiggle room."

There's a beat, a quiet moment of everyone processing this sudden uptick in illegal activity. It's been a year, and it seems, many things have been happening in the shadows.

"He's right. We thought they'd take longer to recoup now that the big bosses aren't embedded on the other side," Sharon says, mouth skewed to the side as she folds her arms. "Seems it didn't really matter."

"Yeah well," Bucky sits on the floor, outstretching his legs. "You know… cut off one head—"

He doesn't need to finish. They pour over the files themselves. Bucky scatters pictures all across the floor. They recite names, ask questions, start building some sort of basic tactical plan based on the threats nearby. Despite this, Steve has an indelible feeling they're missing pieces. But they're sitting, looking at months worth of information.

"Am I the only one who feels like this doesn't make sense—no matter how you slice it? Something is missing." Sam wonders aloud, voicing the same thoughts Steve has. He allows the relief to settle, knowing his team is still on the same wavelength.

Bucky looks to Steve just as quickly. He'd wondered the same thing. But he's better at winging it—wondering about what they don't know doesn't fix much but stretch out the inevitable. He's used to dealing with fallout—that's what SHIELD always felt like it was about; cleaning up messes so the everyday person doesn't have to. "They took the Maximoffs—why not just kill em and be done with it?"

James knows why. They suddenly all know why.

"They were gonna come after Pietro and Wanda regardless—and they were practically handed back in a fuckin gift basket," Steve says, and Sam's eyes widen with sudden realization.

"Bad words," Sharon mutters, more as a habit than anything serious.

Steve actually snorts, despite his mood. "You know what, Carter…"

When she'd met him, he'd already been the Steve she knows—hardened by the job. But she quickly learned he was once what everyone would consider a Boy Scout; raised by a devout, catholic mother who used to scold him for things like swearing and taking the Lord's name in vain. She'll have to thank Tony for that little inside joke.

(They'd been following up on a lead, and that's where they'd found Wanda and Pietro.)

The moment was so heavy, it feels good to have made him at least crack a smile. He hasn't been the same. Though, she doesn't feel like she should have noticed that. But who couldn't?

She lets herself get carried away. Who is this man before her? With his full beard and mop of thick brown hair, he doesn't look like the same Steve. The new display would suit him if she couldn't see the turmoil in his eyes. Now that the split second joke has come and gone, a sinking kind of concern settles in the pit of her stomach.

Sam's brows knit together.

James sighs heavily, bringing her back to herself. "They were probably made from the minute they stepped foot here." He nearly puts his fist through the floor.

"How did they even get tangled up in this mission?" Sam asks. "I wondered...why send them? When Sharon and me were already here."

"I brought them in to begin with, it's my fault," Steve says. He knows that's not what Sam means. It's harder to say that Natasha probably made them and gave them up. And the Twins would probably say he'd saved their lives—saved them from themselves—and he shouldn't take that upon his shoulders as blame.

Bucky looks at him, "It's not your fault. They knew what they were signing up for." He has to believe that.

"And what was that, Buck? Revenge?"

"I don't think they'd appreciate either of you acting like they didn't make a choice," Sharon cuts in. "We all care about them, that's why we're having this conversation. And we can sit here and pass blame around all night. That's not going to get them back.

"Lucky for us, they'll be in the same place as the launch codes you're supposed to get."

"If we do this—Fury's not gonna like it," Steve seems to snap into Nomad mode, his mind coming up with contingency after contingency. He cares about not letting nuclear weapons of mass destruction get into the wrong hands, but it will be impossible for him to leave Wanda and Pietro. Impossible.

"Wait," Sam chuckles, "you're going to just...waltz in there; into a room filled with a who's who of every watch list? It's going to be FBI's most wanted in there."

"Yup," the three agents reply.

"Well," Sharon says, "don't think of it like that. I have hacked into every database, so their aliases check out and get them through the door. And we're not going as Americans. Just a group of people who—"

"Don't want the world to go to shit, yeah, I know." Sam chuckles. He's actually had a hard time with that mantra. The American people have always been why he's fought. It's been difficult to reconcile, but he hasn't been fighting for the advancement of the American government anyways so why is it hard to actually say? "And if someone recognizes them?"

"We'll improvise," Steve says, his voice sounds calm, but James and Sharon know better. Sam too, but sometimes he likes to push buttons.

"That's fuckin crazy—you're fuckin crazy."

Steve rolls his eyes. And Bucky nearly laughs. "No ones telling you that you have to come with."

"You're not going to change his mind," Sharon whispers, just loud enough for Sam to hear.

"Do you have another idea?"

"We wait," Sam says, "Intercept them in another—"

"No," Steve says. "They'll be in one place, the codes, Wanda and Pete. We're not leaving without all three."

"I doubt Natasha makes it that easy," James has to say. (It's hard to say anything where Natasha is concerned. She's always been good about keeping her motives close to the vest. She's even better at convincing everyone she's always a mile ahead of the rest. The opposing facts somehow keep hope alive. There's more to her leaving, turning her back than simply wanting Steve dead. They have to believe that or it will actually drive them all insane. ) Steve's shoulders sag only marginally before he swallows thickly.

Sam wants to ask him if he's certain, but he knows the answer already.


	3. Chapter 3

Wanda wants to pull at the collar on her neck, but they have her tied up in a straight jacket. She wants to scream, but a gauzy material is shoved into her mouth and her throat is so sore every swallow feels like taking sandpaper to her esophagus. The worst part is that she's been left like this for days, though she's being given just enough food so she doesn't just go ahead and die.

She can feel her magic under her skin, screaming to be set free. But the thought alone hurts her head. She's been shocked by the volts of her collar—bright and angry, red marks line her neck from where she's been burned. The skin is left untreated, sore and wanting to be scratched at. She's miserable.

Although, death is sounding more and more like a welcome reprieve; more than she would have thought before this, she knows she can't give up. Her team is waiting for her—Pietro needs her to survive. They're twins and she won't make it through her life without him. James, her special friend James, will he mourn her if she gives up? strangely, it's been the thought of him that's been keeping her alive. Though, she's nearly torn herself apart wondering: _is this what they did to you, my love? _She wants to rip everyone in the facility limb from limb. Part of her is shocked that she hasn't had her head wiped clean. She's known for a long time, they aren't above doing something so vile.

She refuses to die in a place like this.

The witch scrapes her heels on the concrete floor, scooting herself backward so she's leaning on the equally plain wall of her cell. Wanda wonders… will she lose it if she lets her angry thoughts win out over the dwindling determination she still has?

She hasn't seen her brother. She can't hear him in her head. She can't _feel _him.

They weren't ready. And in their eagerness to finally prove their worth, and assuage the guilt of their past, they'd jumped at the chance to knock off one of the names on the most wanted list. In their haste, they'd been made. After months of doing light work—implicating themselves back on the wrong side, only to lose their footing. Natasha didn't trust them, and when they thought they had her cornered…

They were wrong. But it had been too late to fix it. Natasha was always three steps ahead; maybe the entire time.

Her eyes sting with tears—feeling the undeniable dread that comes with the realization that she _could _die like this.

_Maria has probably already given up. No one is coming for us. _She wants to scream, cry, tear the facility apart. The doubt, it's ripping her head to shreds.

She tries to shake the thoughts away, hands shaking as she rubs her temple. She can't think that way.

Steve didn't even know the details of the operation. Maybe he can't help them. Though, she has to fight herself and her own thoughts—die believing that he will have tried.

Somehow she knows, he's on his way. Hell or high water, Steve doesn't give up. Part of her wonders if he'd choose her and her brother over the woman he'd loved—_ loves— _even if she did abandon him, and their team.

They were supposed to stop Natasha, use their powers to incapacitate her when the right time came. They've been biding their time. But they were under strict orders—killing her, getting into a drag out war with the Natasha Romanoff wasn't the goal. She'd just resurfaced after nearly a year of being completely off the grid. And she appeared, back on the top, like a legend who'd seen the secrets on the other side and made it out alive.

They'd followed her from an underground club—a speakeasy in London mobsters like to frequent. Wanda and Pietro were quickly reminded just how many girls that've been missing for years ended up in places like that—only to never be seen again. What Natasha has been doing there...they didn't want to accept. Though, they didn't come to know her very well—if at all—before she left. It's a bitter pill to swallow. Had they traded up one life of evil for another.

It was soon revealed, when Natasha met with one Brock Rumlow, to show they were rounding up orphans and missing girls. The plan was evolving from explosives—if it was ever about that—and more on the super serum and all incarnations of it. Natasha had another mission to add to her to-do list. And somehow it was worse.

Near boatloads of people were being shipped throughout the world. _Siblings, _twins and triplets. She doesn't know _what _HYDRA is offering, but whatever it is, it's enough to be rounding up support.

Wanda and Pietro surviving the incubation period, powers developing, was a happy ending for HYDRA. According to Baron Von Strucker they had been the only ones to survive. And now that every other venture and experiment has failed, they're going to retry their luck with more siblings. Except, no one else has volunteered for it.

And in a few hours—she's still aware enough to be keeping track—she knows that they'll come for her in less than an hour. But she doesn't care; about anything, or anyone but her twin. If she's going to hatch a plan, she has to be prepared to see the worst. He's never been docile, or easily broken. She remembers all the ways they'd tried to corral Pietro while they'd _first _been under HYDRA's thumb. She knows he rather die than become their weapons again. They know better.

HYDRA is great at manipulation—taking your determination and pain and harnessing it against their enemies. They're very convincing. She and Pietro, she knows, will never willingly fight for them. And once they'd arrived, Pietro fought back and paid for it.

Brock Rumlow is a ruthless man—now more machine than he is human. They call him Crossbones. He wears a robotic, heavily armed suit, one that is supposed to help him take on Nomad and his deadly best friend, the Winter Soldier. Their run in with him in Wakanda had yielded his own disaster and a failure to execute, which she is grateful for—Steve and James are still alive—but it's caused Rumlow a great deal of ire. He is overly happy to take his mounting frustration out on Pietro. She grew even more fearful for him, once the sedative they'd stabbed into his system wore off.

Her stupid, fearless brother. She lets herself cry.

_She holds her hands up, staring Natasha squarely in the face. "Okay, okay…" She says, swallowing nervously. Natasha holds a gun to the back of her head. _

_"Who do you work for? Who sent you?"  
_

_"You can kill me, because I won't tell you." _

_She expected the world to fade to black, but it hadn't. Maybe that's the scariest part. _


End file.
